


Miscommunication

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Omovember 2020 [23]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Embarrassment, Fluff and Humor, Omovember 2020, Omovember 23, Parental Peter Burke, Wetting, pushed too far by someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Series: Omovember 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Kudos: 6
Collections: WC²





	Miscommunication

Neal was working like a bee, when a prickle in his pants nudged him out of his office chair. He put his pen between the two pages in the file he was reading, and rose up, head not yet turned in the intended direction. Simultaneously, his handler approached his desk. It was almost,  _ about _ time to leave.

“Hey, Neal..ready to go?” he greeted, misinterpreting the reason for his present stature.

“Sure, let me just..” Caffrey pointed out of the office, but was interrupted.

“No. You’re just  _ nothing _ ,” Peter blocked.

“Peter,” he objected.

“It can wait. Right?” he challenged the con man.

“Technically,” Neal spoke without thinking.

“Great, let’s go. Forward  _ march _ ,” the Suit commanded.

Neal followed, taking a step to the right in the direction of the restroom.

“Left!” Burke barked.

He obliged, wondering when he became so damn diligent. Then Jones appeared, intending to share the elevator.

_ Oh right. Around the same time he developed self-awareness... _

He stared at the ceiling, folding his arms to distract himself from anything below the belt.

* * *

It seemed nature’s call wanted him to listen to Peter ahead of  _ itself _ , as they ended up in bumper to bumper traffic.

Neal waved his jacket to provide some air condition, as the window was barely open.

He also massaged himself just below the hip, while squeezing his thighs together.

Peter opened the window further, and stretched forward, talking to Jones. 

Caffrey saw his chance. He knew he wouldn’t make it all the way to where they were going. Not without a rapid rendezvous.

Clenching his right fist, and assisting himself through his pockets with his left; Neal swung himself out of the car.

Agent Cruz was speechless at the show. 

“Hey, guys,” she interrupted. They turned around.

“Neal’s jumping out the window,” she pointed at his fleeing feet.

“Neal!” Peter shouted instantly, throwing the car door open. 

He took off sprinting along the row of cars. But he didn’t get far before Burke grabbed his arm.

“Where the  _ hell _ do you think you’re going?” the agent scolded him.

“Exactly,” Caffrey sighed, not noticing the handcuffs moving out of view.

Peter frowned momentarily, before coming to the conclusion it was nonsense, and promptly slapping the cuffs on his CI.

“What is this about?” Neal confronted.

“You’re acting out; I’m putting my foot down,” he elaborated sternly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  


With the windows down and the _child_ lock on, he found himself more boxed in than in prison. Once the need to shift arrived, he instead crossed his legs as tightly as he could, folding his arms once more, this time to allow for scratching, and _squeezing_ his thighs as much as he could get away with under the view of 3 FBI Agents.

When the car finally stopped, Neal snuck a few fingers between his legs, pressing just below his genitals. When he pressed against them, extracting them from the dubious area for such appendages... he found that he had to keep his legs  _ really  _ closely linked or risk something slipping out. Loosely translated; it meant he could not move.

The other two members of the team left the car straight away. Peter turned around at Neal’s absence.

“Come on, out we go,” he beckoned. No reaction.

“Up and at ‘em,” Burke encouraged. Still no shift. Neal didn’t even trust himself to move sideways.

“What are you doing? I thought you’d wanna get out of the car,” he sat down next to the statue that was his consultant.

“I can’t.” Caffrey clipped, staring at the seatback in front of him.

“What do you mean you can’t? I took off your cuffs,” Peter reminded him. Neal closed his eyes, neither in the mood or able to, explain what was going on.

“Neal,” he put his hand on Caffrey’s shoulder. The man wriggled away.

“Don’t,”

Peter reached for his arm. 

“Peter, no!” Neal yelped, desperately. But he pulled on the limb anyway. In the split second that he reflexively tugged out of his boss’ grasp, it happened. Or, started happening.

Neal’s eyes tore open in panic and shock. He threw his upper body down, to cover the damage. Onwards it flowed, spreading moisture along the invisible seam of his Devore.

It ran too hot for him to be able to focus any part of him on stopping it. Not that he wanted to. When you gotta go you gotta go. He knew the odds of making a difference by intervening, were poorer than Greece. Instead, his hands moved inward, covering his blushing face.

Agent Burke was as still as he still was. Then he gently placed a hand on Neal’s shoulder. 

“Neal. Talk to me. Please,” he requested softly.

Caffrey had to wait for himself to stop before he spoke. “You’re an idiot,”

Peter blinked. “And why is that?”

“You call me a liar, but the only of us who’s lying is you,” Neal snapped, divided between being hurt or simply annoyed.

“Okay, I never called you a liar, I just accused you and I’m sorry if I was mistaken. But I never lied to you,” he claimed.

“Oh yeah? You go on about trust and verification, without doing either,” Caffrey wiped the tears out of his eyes, resting his hands on his knees while looking at his friend.

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we left,” the con man clarified. “What did I do to deserve you questioning my every move?”

“You were stalling,” Peter reasoned.

“No, I wasn’t. You didn’t let me tell you where I was going,” Neal pointed out.

“You said it could wait,” he mentioned.

“Technicality. I’ve told you a billion times, sometimes I let you draw incorrect conclusions; it just makes things simpler than saying ‘actually I stole this thing 5 years ago’,” 

“Talking about the Raphael?” Burke brought up.

“What Raphael?” Neal redirected automatically.

“Well, why did you jump out of a window?” Peter pointed out.

  
“I didn’t want to wait anymore,” he stated.

“For what?” 

“God...you really don’t listen, do you? I already told you,” Neal informed him.

The Suit frowned. “You weren’t paying attention to what I was saying or  _ in what context  _ I was saying it,” Caffrey sighed. “It couldn’t have been made any clearer, honest,”

Peter thought back. He had asked where he was going, and the runaway had replied ‘exactly’. So, somehow, he had accidentally answered his own question. One of the words. Not where, not was, not he. Not going...It clicked. Going. He had run away to  _ go _ . As in, to the bathroom. 

Now the posture made sense. He had inadvertently pushed his CI’s limit to the brink.

“Oh...you need to go?” he wisely decided to verify.

“No,” Neal said quietly.

“No?” Peter repeated.

“Not anymore,” Caffrey remarked dryly, sitting up and thus revealing his thoroughly dripping pants.

“Oh,  _ gee, _ Neal I’m so sorry. I genuinely had no idea,” Burke apologised, filled with remorse.

“Yeah, kinda figured,” Neal wiped more tears out of his eyes.

“Well, hey, don’t worry about the seats; they’re not hard to clean,” he attempted to assure him.

“What, someone spill something?” the con man deadpanned, feigning curiosity.

Peter laughed, loudly. So did Caffrey.

“Really though, it’s okay, accidents happen,” he shrugged casually with one shoulder.

  
“At any age, apparently,” Neal noted, bemused.

The agent decided a half-hug was in order. The recipient agreed.

“So...how do I regain my ability to move?” 

“Oh, I’ve got spare clothes in my go-bag. Don’t mind the unfortunate wordplay,” Burke quipped, stretching into the trunk and pulling out both pants and underpants. 

“There’s wipes and hand sanitizer in the glovebox. I’ll let you get on with it,” Peter left the man to handle it himself.

It wasn’t the biggest radius he’d had to operate in, but Caffrey managed all the same.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  


Peter rejoined his colleagues in the parking lot. 

“Is Caffrey okay?” Jones inquired.

“Yeah, yeah...just...do either of you have a plastic bag or something on you?” Burke requested.

“Why?” Lauren wondered, puzzled. 

“I’ll explain later,” he promised, with no intention of actually explaining later.

Jones found some.

* * *

When the agent returned, Neal’s clothes were neatly arranged in a pile with the fedora on top, parallel to a smaller pile of used wipes.

The wipes ended up in a garbage bag, and the wet clothes in another.

They were hidden in the trunk next to the suitcase.

Peter texted the Demi-Suits to give Neal some space to get over the embarrassment.

They just sat there, breathing and focusing on moving on. 

Before Caffrey could even  _ think  _ about lifting his clean and dry legs up, the agent realised something.

“Y’know, you had two slips of the tongue earlier...at the office,” he remarked.

  
“What’s the first?” Neal registered interest. Particularly in avoiding a similar misunderstanding.

“When I asked if you were ready, you said Sure. That implies a  _ Yes _ . Then you followed it by an amendment,” Burke recapped. “I don’t know  _ what  _ I thought you were up to, it was just the immediate request for time  _ after  _ claiming to be ready...ish; making me suspicious. Like you came up with some scheme and impulsively decided to use this specific slot of time to execute it,” the Suit shrugged.

“So, like with my use of  _ exactly _ ; I could’ve been clearer. Said  _ not yet,  _ or  _ almost _ , or something like that?” the con man guessed.

“Would’ve helped. Narrows it down,” Peter noted.

“Hmm,” Neal nodded, looking down in thought. He stored the advice for later.

* * *

Neal grabbed himself under his desk, finishing the last sentence of his case summary.

Once that was done, he grabbed his hat; he was leaving immediately after peeing, anyway.

Peter flanked him before he reached the corner of the table.

“Finished?”

He shrugged.

  
“Great, let’s go,” Burke invited.

“Actually, I was just..heading to the bathroom,” Neal corrected, curving his finger to reiterate that fact.

Peter backed off, waving permissively. The younger man held up two fingers as reassurance. His handler simply nodded.

Didn’t get much clearer than that.

The End.


End file.
